m^t Hanb OTljere tt)e #oob ©reams! #rotu ^ Bance jf antasip iip iScUie iBurgct Jflillcr (iWrS. %. a,) The Land "Where the Good Dreams Gro^ A Dance Fantasy SPEAKING CHARACTERS The Poet with his sack of dreams Babette, the mountaineer's daughter Cedric, the mountain simpleton The Sand Man DANCERS Solo Dancers: Twilight Evening Star Poppy Lady Dawn Chorus Dancers: Falling Leaves Evening Shadows Fireflies Moonbeams Dream-maidens The Asphodel Sprites Little Bad Dreams The Trolls The Little Mince Pie Dreams The Live Bunnies The Columbines and the Mountain Zephyrs The Sunbeams Copyright, February, 1921 By Mrs. L. A. Miller, Colorado Springs. All rights reserved — For permission to reproduce address the author. SYNOPSIS PAET ONE — The Poet, The Fool and the 'Child. Babette, the mountaineer's daughter, encounters the Poet with his pack of dreams upon his back, and is permitted to peep at the fragile winged things he carries there. The poet goes grumbling good-naturedly toward home and the work-a-day world that awaits him. Cedric, the mountain simpleton, who believes it his daily task to put the birds to bed and waken them at dawn, meets Babette and tells her that if she dares to tarry till the evening shadows gather and follow the Sand Man upon his nightly round she may discover the land where the good dreams grow. Babette lingers till Twilight comes and deepens into night. She sees the Sand-Man and follows him stealthily. INTERLUDE— The "Sleepy Sheep Song." The Sand-Man leads the sleepy children to their beds, count- ing the sheep jump over the fence as they go. Babette fol- lows. PART TWO — The Land Where the Good Dreams Grow. Outside the City of Sleep with its doors where the good and bad dreams find egress, Babette sinks to sleep. The Poet, reading from his book, passes through the door of the good dreams. The Poppy Lady enters, notes the sleeping child and compassionately bars the ivory door through which the Bad Dreams come, but Cedric slips in and mischievously sets it ajar. The Bad Dreams haunt the sleeping child until the Poppy Lady discovers her plight and soothes her with happy visions from the low dark door. As dawn approaches the dreams all retire and the sun awakens Babette. The Poet finds her with compassion but she exults in the thought that now she, too, has dreams that may find wings and fly. Cedric catching her exultation wakens his birds to joyous song. ©CI.D 5 72 12 The Land "Where the Good Dreams Gro^ A Dance FantasY PART ONE Scene 1 — (Pleasant wooded glade with mountains in back- ground. Late afternoon. FroTn trail at rear right the POET enters; he is old and shabby and carries a pack on his shoulders. As he reaches the level ground he pauses, wipes his brow and shifts the pack to the other shoulder, he is whistling very softly and cheerily.) Poet: Another golden day I've spent right royally, I've held its hours up and watched them fall Without regret in Time's old hour-glass. Another toasted day Janet will cry — Ho hum, well after all 'tis but the wasted days That count for aught in my life's calendar! {He looks regretfully back at the mountains luhere the sun's last glow still lingers and sings:) O, 'tis sweet to live and sweet to love, And sweet to follow the little road. With heart as light as the day is bright. And back without a load; To loaf and dream and sit in the sun. And think of your blessings every one. The love that shines in a thousand ways Through all the length of your gypsy days. (Sits down wearily, rests his pack carefully beside him and watches dreamily the dance of the FALLING LEAVES.) Falling Leaves — Chorus dancers in brown draperies with gleams of yellow and crimson in the inner draperies and scarfs. The dance is tripping, floating, rustling — the melancholy of the brown draperies and softy dreamy movements relieved by touches of crimson and gold ex- pressing sheer happiness. (As the dancers retire BABETTE, the mottntaineej^'s daugh- ter runs in from the left. She is breathless, barefooted, bare- headed and simply clad. Graceful, dark-haired dreamy child.) Babette: (Softly speaking to herself) I thought I heard the mysterious "Old Man of the Moun- tains" here somewhere. I v/onder where he's been today and what he carries in that sack? Poet: How now, Babette, like all your sex you scent a secret from afar. And what will Babette give the "Old Man of the Mountains" for a peep into his pack? Babette: (Drawing back startled and abashed) I beg your pardon, sir, I must have spoken all my for- ward thought aloud, but vdio has told you of my name? Poet: (Kindly) There's something in these solitudes that whets The senses of a man to keener edge. And not a secret wish that's whispered here But may find wings and fly — Believest that, Babette? Babette : You speak so strangely, half you frighten me! For / hear naught within the mountains here Naught save the ringing blows of father's axe, Or the shrill whining sound of whetted scythe, And mother's echoing call from out the cottage door. (She pouts) I wish that I co^ild hear see and hear as thou! POET: (Drawing her gently down beside him) A wiser man than I hath said, my child, That they may only learn to see who look Through falling tears, that they alone may hear Whose ears are deaf to sound of worldly strife — But that's old doctrine for a child like you. (Babette all unheeding his philosophy looks curiotisly at the poet's pack) What do your neighbors say of me, my dear, and of my pack? Babette : (With all a child's importance at divulging a bit of gossip) Some say 'tis simple, roots and herbs to make rare cordials and sweet-smelling balms for wounds, and that you make a deal of money from the things we count as worthless; others say you seek for gold and carry bits of rock to test in secrecy, and then they shake their heads and laugh — Tell me, do you get much money for the contents of your pack? Poet: A pack like mine could not be bought with gold, my child. Babette: (Leaning forward eagerly) May I lift it, is it so heavy then? Poet: (Sadly) Sometimes it is, and makes my shoulder sore, But that is when 'tis emptiest! Babette: (Petulantly) You're teasing me with joking words — I have a mind to tell you what old Rachel said — 'Twas not polite, I did not think to tell. Poet: Go on, Babette, and tell the whole, Remember truth hath not a hiding-place From me within these mountain fastnesses. Babette : She said the mountains, then, had robbed you of your wits, that like poor Cedric you did run all day after the phan- toms of your own disordered brain — Poet : ( Chuckling ) Go on, Babette, Dame Rachel spoke more shrewdly than she knew. Babette: (In awestruck whisper) She said she doubted not that for some past misdeed A pack of sins forever you must bear! Poet: pious Rachel, how Janet would relish her philoso- phy! Babette : Janet, who is she? Poet: She's just a virtuous woman who has taken o'er The task of keeping me in paths of industry. Babette: {Impatiently) But, the pack, is it heavy, today? Poet: {Patting it tenderly) 'Tis very light, I've had a most profitable day! Babette : ( Coaxingly ) Let me see! Poet: 1 doubt if you can see the garnered treasures Of my gypsy hours — they're thin as gossamer. {He opens the pack just a little way and Babette peeps eagerly ) Babette : But some of them have wings! Poet: (Proudly, as he closes pack) 0, you should see them when they fly! (He looks about and rises hastily) I'm late again, O what a drubbing I will get. The supper waits, and there's the evening chores — The cow and hens will be disconsolate. And Janet — she will be a stony monument Of grief — Hasten Babette, the night falls soon. The evening shadows must not find you here. (He hastens aivay and Babette looks after him wistfully) Babette: (Calls after him) Will she not smile to see the pretty things You bring, and bid you show her how they fly? Poet: She'll never see them, for I keep them hid. (As he goes off stage he sings, merrily once more the vagrant's song.) *^ O, somebody's sad, and somebody's mad, And somebody else doesn't care: But why shovild we grieve when joy's to be had Out on the little road anywhere. No time to worry, no time to fret. The sun is flushing the Western ways. And we'll take to the road till the sun has set, These glorious gypsy days. (Babette stands ivatching eagerly, wistfully, the glow of sun- set fades and shadows lengthen.) Scene 2 — (As before — Babette leans against a boulder and looks wistfully after the poet, strains of his song eome echo- ing back.) Enter CEDRIC, the mountain simpleton. He is tall, thin and uncouth. He is dressed in rough shepherd costume and wears a cap with a red feather set jauntily upon his head. He is very intent upon some curious noises he is producing from an improvised flute. As he blows upon this hollow stalk sleepy birds twitters are heard all about. He blows on while the orchestra plays soft strains of bird-song. He sees Babette. CedriC: {Gruffly) You'd best be off — I see you there spying upon Cedric at his work! Babette : (Laughing) Your work, Cedric, Of all the men upon the mountain here you do the least. Cedric: That's parson's tale — he scolds at Mother, bids her see that I am put to tasks from morn till night. {Looks craftily about) They do not know that Cedric's work of all men's hereabout is mightiest and could least be spared. don't you wish you knew what Cedric does at evening when he steals away, and in the early dawn while others snore? Babette : Tell me, Cedric. Cedric : You'll babble it, girls always do. Babette : ( Crossly) The "Old Man of the Mountains" did not fear to trust a girl, he let me peep into his pack. Cedric : That's naught — a sack of dreams! Babette : But they were beautiful, and some will fly! Cedric : {Swelling up proudly) Cedric makes things fly. {Distrustfidly) ' You'll tell. Babette : Cross my heart and hope to die! CedriC: {Slyly) 'Tis Cedrlc puts the birds to bed! They wait for him at evening-time And in the morning he must go So early to the forest or they sleep Too late. He makes them sing and fly. Now I must hurry or the birds will be so cross, tis past their time. And you must run, this is no place for girls when night draws on. Babette : If I could only find one dream like his before I go! CedriO: {Craftily) Cedric knows where the good dreams grow. Babette : 0, tell me where. Cedric : You are a baby-girl, you'd blubber at the dark! Babette : I'm not a baby-girl and I am not afraid. Cedric: {Grasping her arm and whispering cautiously) Just wait here till the Sand-Man comes, you must fol- low till his bag is em^pty, then he goes home. Cedric goes sometimes and see the gates of Dreamland open wide. Good-bye, little girl, you'll be afraid! {Cedric goes out playing once more upon his flute — Again the strains of sleepy bird-songs are heard, they groiv fainter and fainter then die away. Babette sinks down upon the knoll to wait. The shadows deepen.) Enter TWILIGHT— Solo dancer The Twilight is a beggar- maid, In tattered cloak and old, Who comes to town when the day is done. Creeping along as one afraid. She has stuck a rose in her gypsy hair, A rose that the day let fall, We had not known she was so fair. So lithesome and so tall. (Descriptive lines) Twilight is followed by a chorus of Evening Shadows. (Evening Shadows wear flowing draperies of soft gray ivith inner lining of amethyst, as they drift out darkness deepens.) (Babette speaks softly to herself.) Babette : I am not afraid, but it is lonely here, How pleasantly the candle even now Falls on the table where they wait for me! But something moves within the shadows there I will be still and listen. (A single FIREFLY darts in and out, then another, a third, and finally a whole chorus, in the Dance of the Fireflies.) (The fireflies are dressed to fit into the surroundings as closely as possible, they carry small flash-lights by which their movements are distinguished — the stage is quite dark noiv. Babette crouches in Iter corner.) Enter EVENING STAR— Solo Dancer The Evening Star's a timid child. Who flutters coyly to her place, And looks about uncertainly Yet with a winsome grace. (Descriptive lines for interpretation of Evening Star.) (Evening Star is all in pale gold — the stage brightens with her coming. Her dance expresses coyness, uncertainty, ad- vance and retreat — note the trembling advent of the evening star.) Babette: {Springs up joyfully) Why that's the same white star that nods and peeps At me each night when on the steps till late I sit To wonder at the glittering sky. I need not fear Beneath its cheerful friendly light. Star-Light, Star-Bright, First star I've seen tonight, Wish I could Wish I might Find the dreams I seek tonight. Evening Star is followed by a chorus of Moonbeams. Dance of the Moonbeams: {The Moonbeams are all in ivhite or luhite and silver, they carry long scarfs which they use in their dance — the stage has now the silvery whiteness of moonlight upon it.) {Approach SAND MAN with his old brown bag. He is dressed in brown and moves with many strange and grotes- que contwtions. Babette watches and follows him stealthily from stage.) Scene 3 — Interlude {Interior — Steps at right leading to upper chambers. Enter SAND MAN from left dancing grotesquely, he is walking backward and flinging sand from his bag. Following him (fre four and twenty tiny children, yawning, stumbling and rubbing their eyes. The children are all in one-piece sleep- ing-garments and carry a candle {unlighted) in one hand and a favorite toy in the other. As they stumble sleepily along they drone out the *" Sleepy Sheep Song.") *Used by courtesy of Mrs. G. B. McFall of Denver. Sand Man: On the way to Dreamland See the children go, Four and twenty candles Twinkling in a row; Dancing eyes grow dreamy As they climb the stair, Fancies flit like fairies Round them everywhere. First Child: One big sheep — Second Child: Two big sheep — Third Child: Three big sheep — Fourth Child: And one poor litt-le la-a-mb! All: It said Maa-a, Maa-a It said Baa, ba-a One poor little lamb! Then down the hill the go. So, So, So, (Pantomine of sheep going over fence) In a row, See them go Over the fence they go! First Child: One big sheep — « Second Child And two big sheep — Third Child And three big sheep — Fourth Child And one poor little lamb! {They disappear up stairs singing very slowly and sleepily.) (Babette follows stealthily) PART TWO THE LAND WHERE THE GOOD DREAMS GROW. {Outside the City of Sleep. In background a city — at one side is a lofty white entrance, embowered ivith roses; at the other, a loiv dark door. A soft twilight floods the stage.) {Enter POET, dressed as before, his pack upon his shoulders and a small book in his hand.) Poet: This should be the spot. {He reads) "Two gates are there of sleep, whereof the one is said to be of horn by which an easy egress is given to true visions; the other, shining, wrought of ivory; but through it the in- fernal gods send up false dreams." * Enter POPPY LADY — Solo Dancer — The Bringer of Dreams. {She is followed by a chorus of her Dream-Maidens, bright iridescent spirits with festoons of poppies.) O, Lady of the Poppies, soft-creeping Through the dim night In your mole-skin shoon, Where the pale searching beams Of the wan crescent moon Fall on mortals a-sleeping, Scatter bright dreams! {Descriptive lines.) {They dance and retire. The Poppy Lady looks carefully to the fastening of the ivory door and slips away.) *From Virgil's Aeneid. Poet: (Looking up from his book which he has been studying carefully) "Two gates stand guard o'er the City of Sleep, Two angels their watch forever keep To sort out the false and the true; And dreams come trooping their portals through, They come by twos, and they come by threes, The souls of mortals to bless or to tease." Here are the gates, alright, old Virgil knew The ground. No doubt he often sought escape As I tonight — but how shall I find entrance? (He reads further) "The gate is of tough and fibrous horn Where dreams of love and truth are born; Thoughts too lofty for mortal ken Are wafted down to sleeping men From the golden meadows of asphodel Where only the the pure and the true may dwell." {As the Poet reads the dark door opens slowly and the Good Dreams in draperies of soft blue tvith garlands of asphodel (Narcissus or Daffodil) steal forth and dance softly, drcnmi- ly. The Poet reads on unheeding but as they go back through the dark doorway he follows them and the door closes behind him.) (Enter Sand Man in haste, as if belated. He turns his emp- ty sack upside dotvn, shakes it, then skips fantastically as if content with a night's work well done. As he slips through the dark door Baeette enters, limping, stumbling, weary with her long chase. !She seeks to follow tlie Sand Man into the City of Sleep but falls exhausted outside the door. She sleeps.) (Enter Cedric very cautiously, he sees Babette and notes with mischievous delight that she has fallen asleep outside the City of Dreams. He undoes the bars of the ivory door, chuckles and capers witJi malicious glee, then hastens away.) The Coming of the Bad Dreams — Strange terrifying shad- ows flit in and out, mocking, grimacing shapes, the "Seein' things at night" sort of dreams. The Dance of the Trolls : The mischievous little men of the mountain join in grotesque dance; they approach the sleep- er, pull her curls and tickle her nose with long spears of grass. She sneezes violently. Chuckling with glee they steal away. The Little Mince-Pie Dreams: Tiny roly-poly children 'made up quaintly to suggest great mince-pies. As they caper about Babette tosses restlessly in her sleep and moans. (Enter Poppy- Lady — She looks in consternation at the open ivory door and the restless sleeping child. She again fast- ens the bars. Then she looks compassionately at the little sleeper and sets the dark door slightly ajar.) Poppy-Lady repeats a few measures of her solo dance then retires smiling with her finger upon her lips. The Coming of the Good Dreams: The Columbine and the Mountain Zephyr: A chorus of nodding, swaying columbines follows the Mountain Zephyr in its play. The Mountain Zephyr iiS all in soft green draperies and weaves in and out of the lavender and white of the columbines. The Dance of the Cotton-Flannel Bunnies: (A soft scratching and squeaking is heard at the door-way, then a soft head is thrust through — In hop the Nursery Bunnies. Babette smiles as they jump about her in friendly fashion.) (The light brightens a bit and the orchestra suggests the sounds of daum. In great haste and confusion the live bunnies hop through the dark door and it closes softly be- hind them. Babette sleeps quietly.) Enter Dawn — Solo Dancer. (Dawn wears floating draperies of pearly gray with glimp- ses of rose, she suggest a great dusky rose with unfolding petals of palest pink and a heart of gold. The light changes as she dances, flushing with opal tints. Dawn is followed by a single Sunbeam, then another, then a host of bright yellow sprites. The sounds of happy awakening life grow louder.) Dance of the Sunbeams {During this dance Babette rises upon her elbow, smiles at the morning light.) (Enter Cedric puffing valiantly upon his hollow reed, the birds give happy awakening chirps in answer. Dawn fades away. The Sunbeams group themselves at sides of stage.) Babette (Springing up and looking saucily at Cedric) I was not afraid. Cedric (Slotvly with amazed curiotisity) You were not afraid! (From out the dark doorway the Poet comes, his pack upon his shoulder and book in hand. He starts in surprise at sight of Babette.) (Cedric spys a wounded bird at side of stage, he bends over it muttering compassionately, then picks it up tenderly and holds it to his breast.) Poet: Poor child! So young a pilgrim at the gate of dreams! Babette: (Looking back wistfully and reaching out her arms) Oh, they were beautiful! Poet: (Sadly, taking her hand) And now like me forever you must bear A pack of dreams upon your back — Forever you must bear the bitter jibe Of those who only know the world they see And touch — Babejtte {Joyously) — But dreams are real, more real than all This fleeting world we see and touch, For dreams shall live when hearts of men are dust! {Cedric, who has been muttering and crooning to the wounded bird looks up and joins them.) Cedrio: Things with wings will die — Babette (Raising her arms in exultation) But some will live, And grow — And learn to fly! Cedric (Wistfully) , putting his flute to his lips) Cedric can make them fly! (As the curtain falls, the Poet, Babette and Cedric stand hand in hand. Strains of triumphant bird-song are hea/rd.) Produced 1921 by the Broadmooi- Art Academy. Dancers and Players under the direction of Mrs. Milone. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 929 610 6 ^